FISH - Sunsets On Empire (1997)

Sunsets On Empire is the Steven Wilson record to many.  The future Porcupine Tree mastermind and future "that guy who does a remaster of every prog and prog-adjacent record ever recorded" is the guitarist on a big chunk of it, and a co-writer on a big chunk of the songs.  This is a big deal, apparently.  I wonder if the fact that the best I've been able to muster for Porcupine Tree/Wilson solo over the years is a casual mild interest will reflect on how I feel about Sunsets?

 

I really have no idea who the touring band was at this point, and in particular how many guitarists were involved.  On the record you have Steven, and Robin Boult (a credited writer on three tracks, including two of the standouts), and Frank Usher, each doing different parts.  Ewen Vernal is the main bassist, Foss Patterson the main keyboardist, Dave Stewart the main drummer, and Lorna Bannon the most frequently used backup voice, but various other people are credited with or instead of them in various places.  Well, it's a Fish record, not a band, so...

Track One:  "The Perception Of Johnny Punter"

Starting a record with a string of hate epithets, including a hard-r "n-word" is certainly, uh, a choice.*  Obviously it's done in the purpose of making a bigger point; in this case the song seems to be about the different ways in which "we" justify making other people's problems into, well, someone else's problem and not our concern.  Once you're past the hastag-controversial stuff, which only lasts about thirty seconds, the rest of the song is... well, it's long, isn't it?  The main riff kinda rocks, and is also very simple (just three notes, really, with most of the emphasis on two of them) and recurs over and over and over and over.  The "living on the planet" hook is strong, and recurs over and over and over.  The spoken word bridge in which Fish casts his judgment on those huddled in their mansions has some bite, while also making me wonder why the song has to rely on spoken word to make its point rather than well, song stuff.  I think "Johnny Punter" has its moments.  I don't think it's either a total success or a failure.

Track Two:  "Goldfish And Clowns"

Kind of the flipside of the first track - making the simple sound profound.  There's not really much to this story, which I'm led to believe was inspired by a potential romantic encounter in Poland that had its author (and the song's narrator) questioning how seriously to take it.  Even if some of the lyrics are twaddle about dancing bears, there's something about that little tinkly piano riff that portends significance, and the chorus is really sweeping in its portrayal of a moment of uncertainty:

Could you see everything I should have been and everything I could be,

What's the difference

Between sunsets and dawn; kings, queens, and pawns; goldfish and clowns?

Between what's right and wrong can a love still grow strong?

What's the difference?

Why that particular bit of wordplay about orange-colored fish?  Perhaps the bigger question is why not?  Pretty good song.

Track Three:  "Change Of Heart"

Ooof: right in the feels.  See, at this point in his life, well on the way into at least his first drawn out divorce and a survivor of so many previous breakups, I buy Fish more as a chronicler of decaying love than as a celebrator of young love.  Sad but true.  And damn, does he nail it here.  The remove with which the narrator tries to say that this monumental moment in the death of a dream is just a "change of heart, that's all it is" enhances the pathos tremendously.  I adore the way "tomorrow will be forever" is used multiple times throughout the song and means something different each time.  Whether sort of accepting or whether sort of in denial, the narrator knows that this marriage is on the cusp of a change (of heart) that'll be permanent, and he's not quite ready to absorb that sort of blow.  Special shout out to Robin (presumably) for writing a perfect strummed riff for the song that fits equally well as the sole backdrop for the intro and as the basis for the part where the whole band kicks in.  For all the hubbub about prog epics, there is so much packed into this masterpiece of a song in under four minutes.

Track Four:  "What Colour Is God?"

Here's another tune where the potential is clearly there.  Potentially interesting soundscape and percussion and lyrical theme.  And lack of enough musical ideas to sustain its length, tied to a bum chorus that just repeats the title lyric over and over, without diving into it in any meaningful way.  "Colour" is another one that I can see how it coulda been a contender, but it's not there in its current form.

 

Since it's so brief, I wish I didn't have to dwell on the bridge, which features Fish doing a... cross between a slow rap and a poem, I guess, in a sort of vaguely Jamaican cadence.  Choice lines include "Black brotha in an open sports caaah, pulled over by suspicious officaaah."  It is mercifully brief, as I say.  Nonetheless, it is also, entirely predictably, the single most cringeworthy thing on the record (way more so than the beginning of "Johnny Punter"), and probably of Fish's entire career.  So it does demand to be mentioned.  Along with a heartfelt "dude, what the fuck are you doing?  Please stop." 

Track Five:  "Tara"

I'm not wild about the drippy vocal delivery here.  I respect our man's need and desire to write a love song of sorts for his daughter.  I have never successfully listened to the song straight through without my mind wandering.

 

Track Six:  "Jungle Ride"

"I'd seen the kids torch the vehicle before I left on a nightly surfing run to a cybersex site in Chile.  It wasn't as if they were getting rid of prints; everyone knew it was them.  They didn't give a shit.  They just wanted to see the flames, to throw a bit of light on a situation."  ...kay, that's certainly intense.  

 

"Jungle Ride" prominently features a lot of spoken word sections - generally speaking, Derek is very good at confining the spoken-word to one or two tracks per record so it can really hit hard - as Fish weaves together his picture of an urban "young mental jungle" before he and Lorna pair it with a perfect plaintive chorus, the best on the record.  Oddly, there's another much darker reference to clowns and goldfish again, despite no narrative connection to the prior track.  "Jungle Ride" seems to end after just about four minutes and leaves the listener desperately wanting more - this is dark as fuck but I can't look away! - and relieved that it continues, even if the second half isn't as tight as the first, focusing on the muddled role of the narrator.  At least we get that great chorus again.

 

Given that Fish seems like the sort of artist who refuses to kill his darlings, Sunsets almost seems like ideas being worked out in real time.  It's like the spiraling violence depicted in "Colour" and (especially) "Johnny Punter" were early attempts to write "Jungle Ride," and he kept at it until he got it right on the third attempt.

Track Seven:  "Worm In A Bottle"

Seems like a return to the life of Torch.  In a song that I'm sure is in no way autobiographical, we have a performer facing the emptiness of fame, who's constantly making hollow resolutions not to forever be the last one at the party, the last one ashamedly stumbling outside at last call after everyone else is gone.  It sounds a bit weird to say, but I think there's a place for an album track like this.  WIAB is totally fine.  The "well, happy birthday to me!" refrain works.  The song is pleasant.  It will never be anybody's favorite Fish song, and it will never justify its length.  I like it perfectly fine for what it is, a good song never even considers trying to be great.

Track Eight:  "Brother 52"

The fact that "Brother 52" was the lead single is all you need to know about why Sunsets wasn't a big commercial success.  B52 is a thoroughly odd song that's thoroughly interesting whilst being unsettling.  As best as I can tell, it's based on a true story about a diehard Fish fan, an American who loved bikes and guns and was shot dead in a police raid, leading Derek to write a song about him.  Much of this is conveyed in the song by a long phone message from "Doc," 52's tattoo artist, who lets his own opinions be known - he's convinced that 52 was deliberately killed by the US government, Waco style, due to their perception of anyone with a firearm stockpile as a threat to them.  In the comments I've seen about it, Fish describes his own view of the situation as an inevitable tragic outcome of having a society fixated on guns and authority simultaneously.  Or some such thing.

So, does the song work?  Uh... sort of?  I like the verses a lot.  I do not care for the chorus, which is basically "tattoo, tattoo, tattoo, tattoo."  I'm torn about leaning so heavily on Doc to carry the narrative, but I can't think of a better way to do this story, and the bass and fiddle part that plays while he's talking is pretty great.  Overall, "Brother 52" ends up being a really interesting and unique sound collage not like anything else, anywhere, and it gets me thinking, so I guess it works?  I'm still not certain.  I can't stop wondering about the whole thing, for better or worse.

Track Nine:  "Sunsets On Empire"

And after that we're back to our story of the collapse of a marriage.  Or maybe it's actually a return to the story of the fling that could have been something more, but isn't going to be.  The lyrics are just vague enough that it kind of works both ways.  Man, is this record all over the place or what?  Anyway, the starting line here is "and then it was over."  "Sunsets" is a slow piece that takes its time laying on the finality of whatever's ending here, saving most of its punch for a nice big, swelling chorus.  It's hard to deny the power in lyrics like:

I know you can't believe it; it meant nothing at all

And we looked at each other, and we smiled, and the moment was gone

Sunsets on Empire

Is this really the end?

 

I feel like there's a real talent in being able to so economically covey something so universal.  This is why I'm a Fish fan.

Towards the end the track comes up with an absolutely beautiful minor descending keyboard progression and the song spends its last minute just riding that, because, well, why wouldn't you?  It's not going to get old.

Track Ten:  "Say It With Flowers"

I'm not sure about the track order here.  I kind of get ending with the slow inert song about a slow inert situation.  I have to say, though, I'm a fan of a conventional narrative.  So after the finality of "Sunsets On Empire," it's weird for me to go then immediately backwards to this portrayal of two people in a holding pattern, having long conversations that are nominally about addressing their problems whilst actually dancing around them.***  SIWF is thus a pretty good song that I think is in the wrong spot on the record.

Non-album tracks:

I don't really have much to say about "Do Not Walk Outside This Area."  Some more cool ideas that don't congeal into a complete song.  Listening to it I was noticing that any narrative of Fish getting inward-looking for awhile and then rediscovering narratives about others and songs about the world is more or less false.  He's always made time for a few outward-looking songs on every single release, from start to finish.  It's part of why we love him.

Final thoughts:

So, as established, outside of maybe the first and last records which are pretty widely beloved, there seems to be no consensus whatsoever amongst the fanbase on which Fish records are "the good ones" and which ones are lesser efforts.  We're firmly in the wilderness years now.  Much like Suits, Sunsets is deeply beloved by some, and deeply dismissed by others.  As far as I can tell, the people who adore Suits generally seem to be more lukewarm on the Sunsets/Raingods pair, and vice versa.  

 

Here's where I stand, just one man's opinion: Suits was a clear step in the wrong direction.  It had some good stuff but on the whole, not only was it full of misfires, but it was not the type of record I want from Fish.  On the other hand, to me, Sunsets On Empire is an uneven step in the right direction.  Not everything works, but I more or less agree with what it's trying to do (with the obvious exception of the bridge of "What Colour Is God?").  This is the kind of record I want Fish to be making, even if it's not his best.  And I sure as hell won't be complaining about any record that gave us "Change Of Heart."

 

Given the title and cover art, and its author's proud Scottish heritage, I remember first wondering if the record would be some sort of treatise about the decline of Britain.  If anything, this record leaves Europe behind, though.  It's probably Fish's most American record.  The fires in the valley described in "Johnny Punter" seem very American - California in particular - as do the flares of racial and gun violence in the other tracks (and obviously "Brother 52" tells a very American story).  Even the sunset on "Empire" for reasons I can't really articulate I imagine happening in a literal sunset on the West Coast.  Maybe I'm just hearing what's familiar to me, as an American?****

Favorite track:  "Change Of Heart"

Runner up:  "Jungle Ride"

Least favorite track:  "What Colour Is God?"

Rating:  3.5/5

Definitive running list of records by Fish/Marillion that I have profiled so far, in order of what I have decided is unambiguously their quality 

1)  Clutching At Straws

2)  Misplaced Childhood

3)  Vigil In A Wilderness Of Mirrors

4)  Internal Exile

5)  Fugazi

6)  Market Square Heroes (single)

7)  Sunsets On Empire

8)  Script For A Jester’s Tear

9)  Suits

10)  Songs From The Mirror

 

We continue with Raingods With Zippos whenever I get around to it!

 

 

*The USA version, which replaces all the slurs with some character-perspective nonsense and which Fish apparently hates because of OMG censorship, doesn't dramatically change the impact of the song at all for better or for worse.

 

**As Marillion and Fish continue to have so little to do with each other by this point in the chronology, I'll try to confine these comparisons to little footnotes.  So, Marillion fans tend to praise the band's nuanced relationship songs.  And for good reason.  But if one must compare - given that it's not a competition, I'm not sure that, as a lyricist, h has anything on Fish when it comes to diving into the depths of a failing relationship.  The record Sounds That Can't Be Made closes with a long slow track called "The Sky Above The Rain" that sketches out a story of a former love story where the love just isn't there the way it used to be, and then culminates with the wish/hope that someday "maybe they'll talk."  (The song specifies that this will be a real talk - "soul to soul, head to head, heart to heart, eye to eye.")  Maybe.  But what if a commitment to talking just isn't enough?  Fish is always here to poke holes in your pat little narrative.***

 

***To be clear, this is not one of my habitual digs on Marillion's annoying insistence on not being Fish.  Let me go on the record in stating that "The Sky Above The Rain" is pretty damn great in its own right.  

****I am a Midwesterner, though.  And we're all so sick of California songs.